Respiravi
by incorrupted
Summary: She breathed...what else could she do in a world where nothing turned out as it was supposed to? Warning: adult themes
1. Chapter 1: Meek

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter this wouldn't be fanfic, would it?

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**Chapter 1: Meek**

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"Finally regretting our bravery, are we?"

_I am going to die. He killed Ron. I am going to die._

The sky was losing its velvet – a bloody sunrise was bathing the grounds of Hogwarts in red.

"You could at least acknowledge your murderer, after all the trouble I went through to disarm you so..._effectively..._"

Hermione looked up at her enemy. He was regarding her with one eyebrow raised, his haughty features bored and relaxed. It was as though she were merely a chore he wanted to finish. She could feel her vitals slowing down – life was leaving her body. She couldn't run; she could hardly move her broken legs. Blood was seeping into her left eye, tingeing her already blurred vision with red. Her thoughts ceased to process as she lost herself to a surge of pure hate - something her adversary was quick to notice.

"Ah, that's what I like to see," he smirked. "A mudblood all wound up in her last, worthless moments."

She dug her fingers into the sodden, crimson earth as he raised his wand.

"I'd rather be a _mudblood_ than a coward."

She didn't know what she expected to achieve from that statement, but she was rather hoping for more. He simply cocked his head to one side, as though he was feeling sorry for her for being so ignorant. Slightly interested, mostly bored. He raised his wand higher. Her lids were closed – she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the light leave her eyes.

"_Avada..."_

"Lucius!"

She didn't breathe in fear of finding she couldn't.

Malfoy turned to the woman who appeared on his left, his wand still pointing at Hermione's face. "Narcissa, you were not to enter the battle?" His tone was clipped.

"The Dark Lord sent me – you are to capture a hostage, we are retreating immediately."

_Retreating? _Hermione felt a flutter of hope in her numbed heart.

"_Retreating?_"

"The half-giant has returned with a few _friends._" She spit out the word with disgust.

Hearing the sound of hooves behind her, Hermione turned away, seeking the source. Powerful, four-legged bodies were bearing down the Death Eaters as what must have been at least two hundred centaurs galloped out of the Forbidden Forest, a shower of arrows preceding them. The hooded men tried to shield themselves against the gale of wood and steel, but many were failing dismally. They were outnumbered.

_Hagrid! You brilliant man! _She would have smiled if she could.

"This battle is lost, we need to regroup. Take her," Lucius ordered. He was already walking away with his wife, apparently not wishing to dirty his hands on the mangled mudblood. A foul stench assaulted her nostrils as a whiskery face appeared above her own, smeared with grime and blood.

"Well hello, pretty." She wanted to gag. His hand was in her hair, thrusting her head back so she had no choice but to face him. His green eyes were alive with a sick excitement. "Best hurry you out of here, before the bad men find you." He winked at her. She spit in his face.

"_Petrificus Totalus_"

Hermione's limbs snapped to her sides as her body went stiff as a board. Blinding pain reigned as her broken legs objected to the sudden, harsh movement. She couldn't even summon the muscles necessary to scream – an outsider would observe only her silent tears.

The man straightened up slowly. To her horror, he merely licked her spittle of his cheek, smirking at her expression. The world was starting to spin around her, falling out from under her, trapping her in a swirl of colour with this...this _thing..._

"_Wingardium Leviosa._"

With a swish of Greyback's wand, Hermione was levitated toward the direction the Malfoys had taken. They were heading for the gate.

_No no no...they can't disapparate with me! Why isn't anyone noticing this!_

She was bumped ruthlessly into rocks and trees while Greyback jogged close behind her. She could hear his rasping breath, the stench of death surrounding him still potent enough to make her want to black out just to avoid it. The explosions and screams of the distant battle were starting to fade. Soon she would be beyond their help.

_Please, please just look this way! Please, Harry, Tonks, Charlie...anyone..._

Upon reaching the gate she was dropped to the ground abruptly, bruising her shoulder on a rock protruding from the freezing earth. Her captor walked past her without so much as a glance.

"Malfoy!"

Silence.

"_Malfoy!"_

"_What!"_

"What do I do with it?"

_Funny. He's a murderous animal, but _I'm _the one being referred to as "it"._

"Where do you _think?_ Can your canine brain not comprehend the concept of _prisoner?" _

Greyback stormed back, narrowly avoiding stomping on Hermione's head. He knelt down beside her and lifted the body-bind curse.

"You will reward me for all this trouble," he hissed, a chain snaking from his wand to bind her wrists. "I'll make sure I get my turn. I'm sure your filthy blood won't make the rest of your body any less..._enjoyable." _

He hissed the last word in her ear, his foul breath tainting her skin. Hermione felt the hair on the back of her neck raise in defence. She despised the way his hands were sliding over her lower back, resting momentarily on her backside, and continued down her legs. She was almost grateful when he finally chained her feet together. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder carelessly, knocking the wind out of her. His filthy nails..._claws_...were digging into her lower back, scarring her already bruised flesh.

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"Lupin!" Harry bellowed over the sounds of the raging battle. He was ducking curses left and right, no longer caring about any of his objectives. The man he was pursuing turned around warily, as if he was hoping to avoid what was coming. Harry saw dismay flit across the features of his father's old friend, and pulled him into an alcove behind a suit of armour.

"Where is she?" he asked quietly. "You brought her here. She was fighting with _you._" He struggled to keep the accusatory tone from his voice, but there were still far too many traces of blame; Lupin realised the undercurrent of Harry's words.

The older man sighed, suddenly looking twice the age Harry knew him to be. The Death Eaters were retreating, no doubt because of the army of centaurs. Now was probably as good a time as any.

"I tried to stop her, Harry. After Ron...after it happened..." He couldn't finish that sentence. He tried another. "I was duelling Dolohov, I wasn't watching her. She ran after him, she saw it happen..." Lupin's words failed him once more. What could he possibly say?

Harry was livid. Unsure of where he should direct his anger, he punched the suit of armour, scattering the metal pieces across the floor while a cry of frustration escaped him. He turned back to Lupin, who fought the urge to back away.

"I can't lose them both in one day!" Harry's voice cracked under the strain. He crouched down and sat with his back against the wall, resting his head on the cold stone. Voldemort knew love was his weakness, but Harry had been too blind to see it himself. That snake knew exactly what to do to win this war. How was Harry supposed to focus on battles when his two best friends were...gone?

"It's not over yet," Lupin was crouching beside him. "Harry – I saw her being levitated towards the gate."

Harry almost choked on a sob. "That's supposed to make me feel better?" He wanted nothing more than to scream it in Lupin's face. "Am I supposed to be _happy_ that they're going to torture and rape her before they finally let her drown in her own _dirty blood_?"

His harsh words seemed to vibrate in the quieting hallway. Lupin looked at him. He seemed weary, but Harry knew he wasn't defeated...yet.

"There might be a chance that she gets out of this alive, Harry. That's what we have to hold on to."

The teenager gave a shaky sigh and nodded. Lupin helped him up.

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She was used to the suffocating sensation of apparition, but this time it made her feel sick. As they appeared in front of a different set of big, black gates, Hermione vomited violently all over the werewolf's shredded Death Eater robes. With a cry of disgust he threw her on the ground. Hard. She whimpered, only to receive a boot in the stomach. She choked on the metallic taste in her mouth - she was coughing up blood.

Others were laughing behind them.

"Is the big bad wolf having girl-trouble?" a woman was saying. Her voice was deep, unsettling.

More laughter.

"I don't recall you handling her so well yourself, Lestrange." Hermione cringed at the name. "I saw her knocking you unconscious earlier tonight," he growled back.

_One of my proudest moments._

"I was distracted, you filthy half-breed!" Bellatrix screeched. "How dare you even _suggest _a mudblood could best me! I am..."

"...The Dark Lord's most faithful servant. We know, Bella." Lucius drawled, obviously bored. "Not a day goes by that you fail to remind us."

Some of the Death Eaters nearby were grumbling in agreement, Greyback literally growling at being called a half-breed. Bellatrix opened her mouth to retort, but never spoke. An ear-splitting creak was tearing through the small crowd; Bellatrix stared ahead, all emotion draining from her face. Hermione knew why. The gates were opening.

"Come," Lucius was leading the way. "The Dark Lord awaits us."

_Voldemort? _Hermione's heart would have raced if it weren't so weak. _I can't, no! I can't face him...not him..._

She kept her eyes on the Malfoy patriarch in front of them, a white-hot rage gripping her insides. He was strolling along as nonchalantly as if he were returning home after a vacation. If he weren't wearing black dragon-hide gloves, Hermione could have imagined the blood of one of the people she loved most in the world burning holes in his hands.

_I'm so sorry Ron. That bastard will pay._

Her body was floating ahead of Greyback again, leaving droplets of life on the stone path. He was keeping his distance this time. Hermione felt her last resources being drained, she was no longer able to determine up from down. The air around her was starting to feel like a silk sheet on her skin, coaxing her into a painless sleep from which she might never awake. The last thing she saw before the blackness engulfed her was the sympathetic eyes of a snow white peacock.

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**A/N: **I am one of those sad authors who need a few reviews to keep writing. Humour me, please. I have cookies...


	2. Chapter 2: Welcome

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter this wouldn't be fanfic, would it?

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**A/N:** Many thanks to Eva1983 for pointing out my little Latin tense error! I am a lover of language but I know very little of this mysterious tongue.

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**Chapter 2: Welcome**

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Lucius despised being on his knees.

"We have captured a hostage as you requested, my lord."

He was studying a crack in the grey floor as he spoke to his master. Even after years of loyal service, he still avoided looking at the man if he could. Something about Voldemort's reptilian appearance didn't sit well with Lucius' aristocratic upbringing.

"Is it anyone useful?" The cold, high voice seemed to send a chill through the room; the Dark Lord was displeased with his followers and had tortured many us punishment. Avery was still unconscious in a far corner. Lucius didn't even flinch – he knew he was safe this time.

"I would consider her so myself, but it is for you to determine, my lord."

"Her? It is a girl?"

He didn't like the vindictive pleasure in the Dark Lord's voice. It seemed he was already relishing the thought of different realms of torture.

"The mudblood Granger, my lord. One of Potter's sidekicks."

A wave of muttered approval went through the Death Eaters nearby.

"Indeed." He was definitely pleased. This was going well. "And am I correct to assume you killed the other one?"

Lucius thought he couldn't get away with looking down much longer. Voldemort's red eyes were still glinting with his recent fury – he certainly did not favour retreating from a battle.

"Yes, my lord. The Weasley brat died in the mud."

"Excellent," their leader hissed. "You have done well tonight, Lucius. Rest assured you will be rewarded for your service."

"Thank you, my lord."

He was smirking as he got up elegantly and retreated back to his place in the semi-circle. He was back in his master's favour; his authority was finally restored.

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There were snuffling noises coming from somewhere to her far right. Animal-like. She couldn't tell exactly how far; the darkness was too dense.

She had woken up against this wall and that was where she was planning to stay. There was no way to tell how much time had passed, or even whether or not she was alone. Once or twice she thought she had heard slow breathing relatively close to her, but had resisted the urge to call out. She didn't want to attract any unwanted attention, especially since she had no way of knowing who, or _what,_ was in there with her.

The room she was being held in had to be very large, as it was a constant bone-chilling cold. Hermione was bunched into a little ball against the rough rock behind her, trying to keep the unforgiving temperatures from penetrating. Her gums were numb from having suffered what must have been hours of teeth-chattering. The cold manifested its headquarters in her legs – they were still broken.

It had taken Lucius about thirty seconds to snap her bones in their fight the previous day.

_Or was it two days ago?_

Time was a pointless concept now. She couldn't really call it a fight either. Shame clouded Hermione's thoughts as she remembered the brief encounter. She had pursued the Death Eater in blind revenge.

_He didn't even have the decency to duel Ron himself._

She had flung herself at him, along with every curse she could muster – but Lucius simply blocked her pitiful attempts and caught her furious arms as she was clawing at his face. He had searched her expression for a moment, relishing in her sorrow. He was so close she had been inhaling his used breaths, yet she could still make out no emotion in his cold eyes.

Then, with no more than a slight frown, he had kicked her legs with more violence she had ever witnessed in a man. They bent – the wrong way. Her screams had seared her throat as she fell.

This seemed to irritate the Malfoy. He had been rolling his eyes as he silenced the girl sprawling in the mud.

The snuffling was becoming louder. Hermione instinctively jerked her head in the direction of the threat, only to be reminded of the fact that she _couldn't see a bloody thing._ She wanted to scoot away, but the darkness made her so disoriented she couldn't determine one direction from another. Her logical mind also told her there might be other things she'd rather avoid making contact with in the blackness. Images of corpses and creatures strung through her imagination, making her lack of sight even more frightening.

She shuddered. The omnipresent pain in her legs and head were throbbing at a steady pace, seeming to radiate the cold even further into her being. She was vaguely beginning to wonder how long it would take for her heart to freeze over so she could slip away from this earth.

Hermione held her breath.

_Footsteps._

She tried to make herself as small as possible, but her damaged legs were making it very difficult. Perhaps if she just kept quiet she wouldn't be noticed.

"My, my...you _are_ a _mess_."

She was starting to hate that drawling voice with every fibre of life she possessed.

"How can you even see me?" Her own voice sounded foreign to her ears. Small. Weak.

"Oh dear. So _sorry, _Miss Granger."

She felt a slight breeze cross her face. It was like a blindfold had been removed. Hermione's eyes stung; even the twilight was far too bright now.

_A blinding spell. All that fear and uncertainty and it was a bloody blinding spell._

He was smirking at her. Again. She was starting to feel a constant nausea around his superior attitude. She decided to ignore him and take in her surroundings.

She had guessed correctly that the room was large – it was roughly the size of the Great Hall. It could, however, not exactly be described as a room. It seemed a lot more like an underground cave. The water of a large, black lake was rippling at the centre of everything. Hermione couldn't see what caused the disturbance. For some reason this made her very uneasy.

There were silver bars marking off her portion of the cave, and similar cells surrounding her, though they appeared to be empty. She couldn't see any other prisoners, nor was there sight of the creatures that had been snuffling around in the dark.

_Except it was never really dark, was it?_

"Why did you have to blind me? That was really unnecessary," she said indignantly, not caring about the repercussions. She regretted this when the Death Eater's former slightly amused expression was replaced by one of heartless indifference.

"Unnecessary, you say?" He raised a blond eyebrow, looking her up and down critically. "Girl, I assure you, what is _unnecessary_ is allowing scum like you to live."

She struggled to bite back a retort. Besides, what could she possibly say? Who knew what he would break next. She stroked her shattered limbs without really noticing – she had lost feeling in them by now as they were lying at an odd angle, almost separate from the rest of her body.

Lucius's sharp eyes didn't miss this insignificant action. His attention to detail was one of the things that had ensured his survival for so many years.

"I should heal those legs. It wouldn't do to have you die so soon, after all the trouble I went through." She wanted to strangle him. They both knew the irony behind his words – it had been absolutely no _trouble_ at all. A few seconds of his attention were enough to ruin her life.

She remained perfectly still as he came closer, looking him in the eye defiantly. He didn't seem interested in returning the favour as he examined the bloody, infected mess. Without warning, he grabbed her by the ankles and yanked her legs out from underneath her. Hermione gave a low, guttural scream. It echoed around the walls, bouncing off the cracks.

"_Silencio,"_ Lucius muttered, obviously annoyed at her shameless admittance of the pain she felt. She felt her vocal chords cease to obey her orders.

"I was told you have pride. What a disappointing piece of misinformation that was."

She seethed, struggling to control herself. He knew he was angering her, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of reacting. He would just use it as an excuse to punish her. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, not caring about the beads of blood she released.

"It honestly doesn't look that bad, mudblood," he said, a malicious glint in his eyes. Anyone else would have cringed at the state of her bones. "I struggle to comprehend why you would make such a scene over this."

He was prodding the open wound on her right calf with the tip of his wand. Her eyes rolled back in her head as her body went through spasms of pain with each careless jab. Just when she thought she would mercifully pass out, she felt a warm glow spread over her right leg.

_Took you long enough._

"Now that looks much better, doesn't it? Pity I have to waste such magical prowess on a body so unworthy."

_How can he speak so matter-of-factly about this? Is he even human?_

She stared at him incredulously as he was healing her other leg. She felt the last bones click into place with a sting. Before she could stop herself, a grateful sigh of relief escaped her. She could have kicked herself for throwing the opportunity at him.

He didn't miss it either.

"I wouldn't rejoice just yet, Miss Granger." His voice was soft. Deadly.

An invisible force sent her flying across her cell. Patterns of colour burst in front of her eyes as her body smashed face-first into the cold bars. He came to stand behind her. He was too close, yet he wasn't touching her. One pale hand reached over her shoulder and held onto a silver bar, the other was digging his wand into her lower back.

"I will make you beg at my feet, mudblood." His calm, quiet demeanour made Hermione queasy with fear. "You will regret the day I healed your legs in stead of graciously allowing you the right to die."

His face was turned from her as he whispered, yet she could feel his words on her skin. With a growl, he stepped away and she crashed to the ground. She immediately got up, however shakily, not wanting any more of her body in range of his boots than she could prevent.

"Did I say you were allowed to stand?"

_Are you fucking serious?_

Obvious distaste was etched on his noble features as he pointed his wand at her face. She really was scum to him.

"I want to hear you answer me."

She wanted to, she honestly did, but as she opened her mouth to say "no," she realised he never lifted the silencing spell. A knot of nervous dismay formed in her stomach as she saw the subtle look of triumph on his face. He did not _forget _about the spell_._

She shook her head, knowing already that it wouldn't help. She felt an itching sensation in her right hand. When she looked down, she could see tiny legged mounds forming beneath her skin. They were multiplying exponentially and moving up her arm..._spiders._

Hermione's silent screams rang only through her head as she hit at her own arm. There were hundreds, spreading across her breasts, her stomach, her neck. She was frantically jumping up and down while she dug her nails into her skin, tearing her own flesh. They were biting her, eating her from the inside out...

"Disobedience will not be tolerated here, Miss Granger," Lucius Malfoy was watching her expressionlessly. "You are a mudblood. You are not to rise from the ground in the presence of a pureblood."

She was on her knees now, trying to kill the arachnids that had spread to her legs. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. The spiders under her skin disappeared, and he was looking down at her again.

"Your rightful place is at my feet."

She felt her vocal cords slacken. She stared up at the man, not daring to look away.

"_Are we clear?_"

"Yes," she said hoarsely, tears streaming down her face.

With a final smirk he turned on his heel and strode out of her cell. Hermione was too distracted by the bleeding scratches all over her body to realise what someone of her intelligence would have noticed immediately.

He didn't lock it.

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**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews! The more I get for this chappie the faster I'll write the next one.


	3. Chapter 3: Burn

**Chapter 3: Burn  
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The animal sounds were back. Rhythmic, mocking her breathing. She looked up from her scarred body, trying to find the source of the sounds, but she was the only prisoner there.

_Or am I? Am I already losing my mind?_

_I must be weaker than I thought._

She got up gingerly; her limbs were stiff from the recent adrenaline rush. Heading toward the bars, meaning to lean against them, her eyes caught something that iced her completely.

_Surely he didn't mean to...?_

But even as the thought formed in her mind, Hermione tossed it aside. Lucius Malfoy did nothing, _nothing_, by accident – he wanted her to exit her cell. She walked as slowly as she could and stood in the doorway, feeling more vulnerable than she would like to admit. That something was sniffing again. Her eyes were so wide in the near-darkness that they were beginning to water, yet all she could see were the walls of her underground prison.

"Who's there?" Her voice was shaking and she was trembling slightly, but she convinced herself it was the cold.

No one answered, but then again...was she expecting them to? She sighed; she could hardly be any worse off. As soon as she took one step on the other side of the silver bars, she heard a low, menacing growl to her right. Her breath catching in her throat, she turned to face a creature she had never seen before.

The closest relative she could think of was a dog – it was definitely some sort of dog – yet it also seemed to have reptilian qualities. Its body was scaly and it had long, fierce fangs. Its pearly eyes were somehow translucent. This was not an animal she wanted to cross.

It was advancing slowly, its movements smooth and calculated. She could see more of them somehow fading into sight, some opaque and others as solid as the ground she was standing on. She shivered as she took a hesitant step backward, but regretted it almost immediately. The hounds were following into her cage. She was trapped.

The growling was now coming from all directions – a symphony rising to a deadly crescendo. If they attacked, she was not long for this world.

_No sudden movements, Hermione, calm down. You can do this..._

But she was feeling hopeless already. She was surrounded by predators she had no idea how to fight, and she didn't even have her wand. A whimper escaped her terrified frame – the animals took this as their cue to start barking. She winced; it was an awful sound, almost like nails scraping on a chalk board. It echoed off the cave walls, tearing through her from all directions.

A shower of blue sparks suddenly erupted in the air above the animals, at which they scattered and promptly ran into the lake, disappearing beneath the black water. Before Hermione could figure out what happened, she heard a feint _crack_ behind her.

She turned to look into the laughing face of Rabastan Lestrange. The last time she had seen him was two years before in the Department of Mysteries, but he was still every bit as terrifying. It was ghastly, the way his black eyes glittered manically at her fear.

_He's so much like his blasted sister-in-law._

Hermione shivered at the thought of that deadly woman and was actually grateful to rather have Rabastan to face. This thought provided her with bravery she would have done better without.

"What do _you_ want?"

He raised his wand and immediately sent her face first into the ground, knocking all the air out of her. She groaned and turned onto her side, not wanting him to see her grimace.

"I was told you have been taught to respect your superiors. Have I been lied to, Miss Granger?"

She shook her head, gulping at the cold air to inflate her flattened lungs.

"Then why do I find you standing in your cell and facing me like I am some sort of _muggle_ you can just _talk _to." He was every bit as snobby as Lucius, but his voice didn't hold the same calm tone – the anger was audible in his quivering voice. She found herself preferring this to the blond aristocrat's unforgiving manner. She could deal with Rabastan.

"I am quite disappointed. This will not end well for you, mudblood." She turned to see him pointing his wand at a corner of her cell, and a plate of food appeared, along with a goblet of what she hoped was water.

"I shall have to inform Lucius another lesson is due."

_Keep your mouth shut._

"What, you can't torture me yourself?" She was through with thinking; it didn't do her any good here anyways.

Apparently, _not_ thinking didn't help much either.

Before her eyes, Hermione's left hand burst into flames. She screamed as the heat melted her skin and seared her flesh. She tried to stamp out the flames beneath her foot, but it only caused her fragile bones to snap.

_Make it stop, please, make it stop..._

She was clawing at the walls, entirely helpless. After a few agonising minutes, the flames eventually died down, leaving a sticky mess of splintered bone and boiled blood. Hermione was cradling the remains of her hand, her throat stinging from her guttural screams.

He was laughing again.

"I'll assume that I don't have to answer your question?"

She stared at him in disbelief.

"You're _sick._"

He merely chuckled at her and raised his wand again. Hermione curled up around her hand, trying to shield it from him, but seconds later she was hanging from the wall. Chains were digging into her wrists and ankles, causing the burned flesh on her left hand to squelch into a pulp. She screamed again, feeling she was going to vomit soon, but there was nothing in her stomach.

"As much as I'd like to demonstrate exactly how..._sick_...I can be, you are Lucius' captive. I only came to keep the hounds from eating you, and to bring you sustenance." He nodded to the food on the ground.

"Since dear Malfoy has been returned to his former position of authority, I have to do some of his less _desirable_ tasks." The bitterness in his voice was ill-concealed. "Unfortunately, unless you disrespect me, you are to be tortured only by your captor. Just a little guideline to keep us from accidentally killing our hostages." He smiled viciously and walked to the exit of her cell.

"I would recommend not venturing beyond the bars again; but you're a smart one, aren't you? You must have figured out by now that these puppies don't take kindly to filthy blood."

Hermione felt the chains disappear but didn't try to break her fall with her hands, ending up with her face smashing into the stone once more. She did this on purpose, not wanting her throbbing hand to suffer any more injury – soon it would be beyond even magical repair. When she looked up to face Rabastan, he was gone. There was no sign of his dogs either.

She crawled to a far corner, carefully avoiding touching anything with what was left of her hand, and inspected her meal. She felt like she hadn't eaten in days, which was probably the case. After gulping down the water, she took the dried-out, crusty loaf of bread and hastily shoved bits into her mouth. There would be no point in them poisoning her – there were much more satisfying ways to murder a mudblood.

* * *

There were dark, reddish footprints on his beige carpet. Probably Greyback's doing, he never took much care.

Lucius frowned at the stains over the rim of his glass of firewhisky.

He was really getting tired of having Death Eaters roam around his home. It was such an elegant place; he doubted Abraxas Malfoy would have approved of the crowd that he was harbouring in the family manor, even though his father was a loyal supporter of the Dark Lord himself. Things have gotten a little _primitive_ lately ... but what else was there to expect in a war?

He was roused from his thoughts when the Lestrange brothers entered his study, both bearing their family smugness with pride.

"Lucius," The eldest inclined his head slightly.

The Malfoy regarded him with a critical eye. "You have blood on your robes, Rodolphus."

"A bit of muggle residue, nothing to worry about. _Scourgify._" He siphoned the stains off with his wand.

"I take it the hunt went well?"

"That is why I came. I am happy to report we captured quite a few of them to use as bribes; we're keeping them in a cage near the woods by Riddle house cemetery. We can always dispose of them when they become a nuisance."

Lucius nodded in approval. At least he could have _some_ positive thoughts now.

"How much destruction did you cause?"

"We wiped out most of the neighbourhood, the aftermath resembles that of a tornado."

Lucius nodded again. The muggle news would be full of stories about storms that night.

"I met your little hostage when I took her food," Rabastan was saying. "She doesn't seem to know her place."

Lucius felt a twinge of annoyance. Why did she have to be _his_ 'little hostage'? He hated having to take responsibility for the actions of a foolish girl.

"I'll assume you have dealt with it?"

Rabastan didn't notice his icy tone. "Of course, I did not wish to swallow her insolence. I recommend –"

"I don't need your advice, Lestrange, as you very well know. I outrank you. You have no business even speaking to my captives, let alone evaluating their obedience."

The darker man's face set in anger. With no more than a slight incline of his head, he turned and left the room without a word. Rodolphus merely gave Lucius another quick nod before pursuing his brother. Clearly this was not the time.

Lucius rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair again. It was true; the girl did seem to be annoyingly stubborn. A cruel smile played about his lips; the Dark Lord would not appreciate a disrespectful prisoner. He had every excuse he needed to break her, and there were such _creative _ways to do that. In fact, it would be good for him; his mood would improve if he had had a chance to vent.

Taking hold of his cane, he got up from his place beside the fire and walked to the mirror behind the door. With the unpleasant smile now reflected back at him, he tied his long hair back with a velvet ribbon, and slid on his gloves.

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**A/N: **Thank you so much for the reviews; please keep them coming, I really appreciate your trouble!


	4. Chapter 4: Rip

**Chapter 4: Rip**

* * *

If the cold had been crippling before, it was murderous now. Her muscles were in a permanent state of tension as her body tried to fend off the chill made so much worse by her searing fever.

All her energy and concentration went into keeping the muscles connected to her injured hand completely still, for even the slightest movement caused a wall of pain to cloud her mind.

She felt a rush of dread as she heard his cloak rustle on the stone floor. His light, graceful walk made his footsteps almost inaudible. She already recognized him by the sound of his _walk._

_Funny how quickly the reactions of fear can penetrate your mind._

"Good evening, mudblood."

She didn't reply.

_He would probably punish me for speaking without permission._

"Miss Granger, I'll forgive your silence this once, as your muggle upbringing probably didn't make allowance for the subtle art of social grace. However, if you fail to greet me again you will be punished for your lack of manners. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded. She had her back to him, but she knew he was close.

"Very well. Stand up."

She carefully raised herself off the floor, fighting for balance yet still refusing to face him. Her head was spinning. Cold sweat trickled down her back – she was really getting ill.

She swayed slightly on the spot and grabbed unto the wall for support. Lucius clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"You are weaker than I thought. Even the cold defeats you."

Her small frame stiffened at his words. She drew herself up proudly and turned around to face him, but the forceful action was too much for her.

She felt herself falling towards him – _and he caught her._

The moment of silence that followed felt like an eternity.

Dangerous electricity seemed to crackle in the air around them.

She stared up at him groggily, looking for some sort of explanation, but his face was as blank as ever.

Only his eyes seemed restless. Was he... _confused?_

Her head smacked against the floor as he dropped her without warning. She cried out and made to hold her head in her hands, forgetting about her injury. When the soft, splintered limb became entangled in her filthy hair, Hermione began to scream in earnest.

Lucius watched her writhing for a while, completely still. He didn't dare to think now.

He watched as dirty strands of knotted hair sliced through the remains of her hand as she descended deeper and deeper into panic. She was losing control; he could see the pain starting to eclipse her sanity...

"Miss Granger-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. She was clawing at the ground.

He hissed and rewarded her profanity by kicking her in the stomach. She immediately stopped moving, trading her screams for coughs as she fought to breathe after being winded yet again.

"You will not talk to me in that manner."

Her eyes rolled up at him as he kneeled beside her, one hand resting on her side.

As she became aware of the contact, Hermione whimpered. She had never, _ever _known she could experience such fear.

Lucius. Malfoy. Does. Not. Touch.

"Miss Granger, I will not insult your intelligence by pretending I don't enjoy this, but I feel I must warn you: this is going to hurt."

His quiet, silky voice seemed to worsen her pain.

While his hand slid up her side to the elbow of her injured arm, he pushed her back and shoulders against the floor. Putting a knee on either side of her hips, he straddled her with paralyzing force.

His eyes were sparkling again with that lust for pain. _Her _pain. He leaned over her sprawled body, his silver hair draping across her chest.

His mouth was on her ear.

"You know, mudblood, nothing causes me more pleasure than introducing you to Hell. Your response is so _refreshing_ compared to the others that have died by my hands."

He chuckled softly. She shuddered in response.

"Believe me, you and I – we are only getting started."

Hermione cried openly now. What point was there trying to retain any form of dignity in front of this man? His sole purpose was to ruin her.

"Please -" she tried to beg as she felt the hand on her elbow move higher, but he ignored her.

"Are you ready, Miss Granger?"

She shut her eyes and screamed as he yanked her arm. Little strips of flesh ripped from her hand as he tore it free from her hair. White hot pain spread through her entire body, arching her back and contorting her limbs.

Lucius calmly got up and dusted off his robes with his wand. He didn't like being on the ground any more than he liked touching the girl, but her reactions had been worthwhile.

She was close, so very close, but he didn't let her go. He brought her back from the brink of unconsciousness and watched her sobbing at his feet.

_Bastard. You fucking bastard. What did I ever do to you?_

She felt an invisible force pulling her to her feet, propping her up against the wall. Her head lolled to the side as she just kept sobbing.

"This is the life you will lead here if you remain this defiant, little girl."

Why did he have to make her feel so small? As if she wasn't worth the ground she was bleeding on?

Why did she care about how he made her feel?

Hermione felt the bile rise in her throat and watched her pitiful dinner exit her body, spilling a sour cocktail all over her shoulder. Lucius stepped back, clearly disgusted, and pointed his wand at her.

"You are as filthy as your blood."

She was punished for her weakness, yet again. The soiled parts of what was left of her robes burned away completely, leaving most of her left side completely exposed to the aristocrat's unforgiving stare.

She glanced down and breathed a silent sigh of relief when she saw her breasts were both still covered – she really couldn't deal with losing that part of her dignity so soon.

Through hazes of pain she could just see his face. His stony glare was fixed on her bare shoulder. Then it swept across her collarbones and down her body, as if he was simply examining any other piece of his... his _property._

It made her sick.

Sick_er_.

She could feel her breathing becoming shallow – somewhere in her veins an infection was raging.

"Mr Malfoy, I am going to die."

He looked at her; a curious expression momentarily flitted across his features.

"I know."

Silence.

_He doesn't care._

"I am no good as a dead hostage!" she tried to persuade him. She wasn't even sure why; did she really _want_ to live?

He sighed, rolling his eyes slightly, and let her drop to the floor once more. Obviously, keeping her alive was a tedious business for a man of his stance.

"You have brought this upon yourself, mudblood. If you learn to respect your superiors, perhaps you'll survive your time here."

Why did he regard himself so much better than her? Because of his _blood? _It was obscene. Crazy. They were all crazy. She looked up at her torturer's face, but couldn't stand the sight of him for long. She directed her gaze to the lake in stead.

He raised a fine eyebrow at this.

"Are you afraid of me, Miss Granger?"

She didn't even have to think.

"Of course I am. You have a wand."

He stared at her for a moment. He wasn't used to such honesty. His prisoners always denied fearing him, even when he made grown men wet their pants.

"Come here, let me heal you."

"And then? You'll only injure me again."

"I shall, yes."

She sighed. If she ever planned on escaping this place, she would need her sanity to do so.

Careful not to let him think she was standing up without permission, she crawled over to sit by his feet, hating herself for it. She stared at his boots, avoiding his face at all cost. She didn't need to see his look of triumph.

"Hold out your hand."

She did as she was told, and immediately saw new muscles weaving over the remains of her bones. She chanced a look at Lucius and saw only concentration as he muttered inaudibly. She looked down again and watched the skin growing over her fingers, leaving them good as new, except for one thing...

"I don't have any bones!" she exclaimed, clutching her floppy hand. It felt useless and rubbery.

She received a kick on the side of her head.

"Quiet."

He was pouring potion into a goblet.

"Drink all of this and your bones will have grown back by tomorrow."

She gulped down the Skele-Gro. It tasted even worse than polyjuice potion. She shuddered as he vanished the empty goblet from her hand.

"Good girl."

She moaned as another wave of nausea hit her. Her hand might be healed, but she was still sick as a dog, and no better than one in the eyes of her captor.

She lay down with her forehead on the cool stone. Everything was burning now.

Lucius didn't like what he was seeing.

"He didn't disinfect you, did he?"

Not really knowing what that meant, Hermione just shook her head. He couldn't have if she felt like this.

"Fool," he whispered.

The cool tip of Lucius' wand pressed hard against her head. At first nothing happened, but then she began to feel wave after wave of cool relief rippling under her skin as he cleansed her contaminated body.

She was feeling much better, but a great tiredness was descending on her. The tall, imposing man was turning his back on her.

_Please, just leave... I can't stand being near you...  
_

Her thoughts were becoming jumbled and confused.

"Rest."

For once, she had no desire to contradict him. She was perfectly happy to obey the cool, commanding voice of the man she hated most.


	5. Chapter 5: Breath

Chapter 5: Breath

* * *

Lucius was walking with long, careful strides. No one was to see a Malfoy unsettled.

He entered his study and locked the door behind him, resting his forehead against the rosewood for a second.

His shuddering breath surprised him – what was making him so nervous?

It was obviously the girl; he had just come from her, but _what_ about that girl rattled him so?

He took off the gloves that had covered his hands, threw them in a dustbin and lit its entire contents on fire. Dragon hide or not, he had worn those gloves when he touched the mudblood.

With a crystal glass of firewhisky in one hand and his wand still clutched in the other, he settled in front of the fire, enjoying its heat. Even a few minutes in that dismal cave chilled him to the bone.

He pondered over the events of the evening. He had gone down there fully intending to practice every torture curse he knew on her, maybe even trying out a few new ones he had recently thought up. Why hadn't he done it, then?

The only times he even used his wand was when he helped her up, or healed her...

He had used his hands. He had never done that with his other prisoners, even with beautiful, pureblood women. Why would he want to? He didn't want his hands soiled.

Magic was cleaner. Easier.

Why had he done it with her? A _mudblood?_ Unconsciously, he supposed he wanted to feel her cringe under his touch; he wanted to feel her break in his hands...

He shuddered as he remembered the moment his body had betrayed him. Why did he _catch_ her? Why on earth would such a reflex be evoked from his painfully controlled muscles? She should just have fallen to the ground like any other prisoner would have. It was a result of her own weakness and she deserved it.

He could put it down to his gentlemanly upbringing, perhaps; yet... she was hardly a lady.

He snorted out loud at that thought.

No, he certainly did not feel any trace of respect for the girl. She hardly qualified as a human. She was a freak of nature; a muggle mutated to copy the gifts of wizardkind.

He was uneasy about the way she made him feel. Sure, he had enjoyed torturing prisoners before when they so justly deserved their punishment, but never had he felt such longing to cause someone pain.

Lucius could not tolerate what he could not control.

* * *

There was a blanket covering her when she woke. There was food in the corner.

Rabastan must have been there while she slept. The thought of him stalking around her cell while she was so vulnerable gave her the creeps.

She sat up, feeling stiff but a lot better than before. She tested her new bones in her hand and felt no pain. She would do anything for a warm, hot bath. Her skin was completely covered in grime, blood, sweat, vomit and what she was ashamed to realise was piss.

The pail they had provided her with was not very easy to use.

At least she could move without too much pain today. There were no open wounds on her skin, only a few blackening bruises. That was one thing to be grateful for.

Smiling slightly at her desperate grasp for a silver lining, she crawled to her bowl of soup.

It was gray and watery, but she devoured it quickly. While she new she would never have touched food like this under different circumstances, it tasted wonderful on her parched tongue, filling her cramping belly with a warm, soothing sensation.

Only when she was more comfortable, she felt a current in the air around her she had missed in her hunger. Feeling a horribly familiar sensation somewhere near her diaphragm, she turned to face his silver eyes.

He was leaning against the bars, a pensive expression gracing his sharp features while he looked down at her from so many heights.

She stared back, unflinching. Somehow she knew this moment was hers. Somehow, in some way, his standing there was a triumph.

They stayed like this for some time, the atmosphere thick with ghosts of things that could have been happening right now, words that could have been spoken, should have been spoken. She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise.

He pushed himself upright, eyes never leaving her face, and with a swish of blond he was gone.

Only then did Hermione resume her breathing.

* * *

What she assumed was a few days, perhaps even a week, passed without Hermione seeing anyone.

She slept, she woke up, she ate the food that had been left for her, and she carved pictures on the stone. She was so lonely in the constant dark and cold that she longed for even Rabastan's company. Perhaps even Lucius...

No. Not Malfoy. She'd die before she _wanted_ to see _him_.

She went through light and dark; times when she felt brave enough to fight for her slipping mind, and times when she drowned in apathy.

She had taken to singing. Songs she knew from her childhood. They comforted her, bringing back memories of sunshine and grass and playing in the muggle parks. Memories of her mother and father. It helped her to escape the monotony.

She wasn't singing when he came. She was in the night now, without the memories to brace her.

"Get up."

She was tired; being okay took so much energy.

"I said _get up._"

A kick in the back.

_Nice._

Hermione tentatively raised herself to sit up. She was lopsided and leaning against the wall, but that would do for Rabastan. He was no Lucius.

"We are going to wash you."

_Wash, yes...that would be wonderful. We're going to..._

_Wait... what?_

"It won't make you any less filthy, of course, but you are starting to smell."

_But he said..._

"Did you say _we_?"

She had to try speaking three times before she could force the words out of her sore throat, but was rewarded with only a magical slap across the cheek.

"You'll speak when spoken to, mudblood. Now get on your feet so we can walk to the lake or I'll have one of the hounds drag you there."

She tried to stand as best as she could, but it wasn't quick enough for the Lestrange.

"I really don't have all day."

In one swift movement he picked her up and slung her across his shoulder. She didn't even protest, she just hung limply and watched her arms swing. Apparently the Death Eaters appreciated this move. At least it wasn't Greyback this time.

As they proceeded across the cave to the lake Hermione's brain seemed to tug at something. Something she was really not going to like about this... What was it?

When it clicked into place she felt her pulse quickening. Being naked in front of a deranged man... Not only was it completely mortifying, it also scared her out of her wits.

_Would he... touch me?_

She was scared, sweating. Her breathing became shallow.

"Here we are."

She was thrown to the ground on the slippery rock surrounding the lake. She could see better here, there was light coming from somewhere far above.

"Now, mudblood, I have to admit, I don't have a lot of energy today, so if you co-operate we can get through this quickly and I'll leave you to your solitude."

Hermione looked at the man. Was she going to get a little compassion today?

"Take off your clothes."

Ice. No, she really didn't want to be naked.

She shook her head and hugged herself, lying in foetal position on the cold stone.

"Miss Granger, take off your clothes or I'll do it for you."

"I'd rather not have your hands on me."

She cringed, waiting for the blow of her punishment, but it didn't come.

She looked at him and saw only a frown on his face as he stared across the water. Was this the calm before the storm?

_Is he... trembling?_

There was fire in his eyes when he turned to face her.

"I'd rather not have my hands on you either. Now _take off your fucking clothes."_

It rung against the stone walls. Oh, he was angry. Not just with her, no, but he would definitely take all it out on her.

She quickly pulled off all her clothes, keeping an arm across her breasts and a hand between her legs, and threw them in a heap on the floor. Rabastan immediately lit it on fire and sent it flying at her with his wand. She dodged the ball of flame, but slipped and fell in the water instead.

She gasped in shock. It was icy cold and unnaturally heavy. She couldn't stand, and the black water was pulling her under. She could hear growls coming from all around her whenever her head was submerged.

_Oh no, the dogs!_

She was trying to get back to the bank, but the sinister water wouldn't let her go. She was starting to lose her breath as she panicked, sure she was going to drown any second. To her utmost surprise, she suddenly found Rabastan Lestrange on her left. He had dived in after her.

He shot blue sparks above them with his wand, then grabbed Hermione around the waist and started swimming out with her. She could tell he moved just as difficultly in the water as she did; he was just a lot stronger. She could feel his muscles straining and rippling where she was pressed against his chest.

This alerted her to the fact that she was currently naked in very close proximity to a Death Eater. Her breasts were pressing against his wet robes, one of his hands was spanned across her ribs and one of his knees constantly made contact somewhere between her thighs. She wanted to drown from humiliation.

_This was NOT how I imagined being naked with a man for the first time..._

When they finally reached the shallow waters, he threw her unto the stone, coughing, and immediately started sending cutting hexes all over her body.

"You. Stupid. Little. _Bitch._"

He looked absolutely deranged. His eyes were bulging, and she could see various veins pulsing on his forehead as he fought to get his breath back.

Hermione tried to stop the bleeding, but there were just too many cuts. It didn't hurt that bad, but the sight of her life force leaving her body upset her.

Luckily she didn't have to struggle long; Rabastan was already healing the damage. He sat down next to her with his head on his knees, still breathing heavily, while his right hand absent-mindedly waved his wand to close the slashes on her skin.

_He was probably not allowed to punish me._

She could tell he was fighting desperately to control his temper. His hands were balled into fists and he was still shaking slightly.

"The lake," he said in a slow, raspy voice, "belongs to the dogs. It's their territory. No one, regardless of their blood status, is to enter it. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded, wide-eyed. Despite how shocked she felt she couldn't help but be a little annoyed. It's not like she went in there on purpose.

He sighed.

"Go sit by the edge of the water. You can wash with it, but don't go in past your hips."

She obeyed immediately, not wanting to test his patience again. Once she was in the cold water, only daring to let it reach her knees, soap and shampoo appeared on a rock near her. She smiled.

Careful to keep her back to him, Hermione scrubbed every inch of her body. Her skin was red from the friction, but she didn't care. She was scrubbing off her pain, her self-disgust. She washed her hair three times.

Every now and then she would steal a glance at the dark man behind her. He watched her intently, his eyes burning her as he watched the little rivers flow down her back and over her exposed curves.

She decided to ignore him. He wouldn't do anything, he was not allowed to...

_He wasn't allowed to punish you either._

She swallowed and spoke timidly.

"I'm done."

He pointed his wand at her. As if an invisible rope was pulling at her, she was yanked out of the water, toward him.

She stood facing him, much too close to him to her liking. She was starting to shake now...

But the man merely rolled his eyes and dried her with a warming spell before stuffing a gray robe in her hands.

"Put this on."

The material was slightly rough, but Hermione enjoyed the warmth of it as it slid over her. She was feeling so much better.

"Come, let's get you back in your cell."

He put his hand on the back of her neck, but didn't hurt her. He simply lead her forward like this.

She almost enjoyed the touch.

Almost.


	6. Chapter 6: Branded

**Chapter Six: Branded**

* * *

He was pacing again.

To the door, to the bed, to the door, to the bed, to the door...

It was somewhere past midnight. The rest of The Burrow's inhabitants were sleeping, no doubt they needed it after the turn the meeting had taken.

Harry sighed and collapsed on his bed as he unwillingly went through the night's events in his mind.

Charlie, Fred, George, Ginny, Lupin and Tonks, those were his only allies. The rest of the Order all decided against him, even Mr and Mrs Weasley.

Of course they would save her if an opportunity presented itself, but tracking her down was out of the question.

He couldn't argue with Kingsley's logic. With the collapsing of the ministry and the increasing power of the Death Eaters, combined with the terrified state of the general public, they had neither the infrastructure nor the resources to find and rescue her.

They needed to regroup, to gather some strength, to find out exactly what Voldemort's next move might be. Surely the Death Eaters wouldn't hurt her; they needed her alive to bargain with, that was the whole point of having a hostage.

Besides, she could be anywhere.

But how could the Order understand? They didn't know her like he did. They weren't best friends with her for seven years. She didn't save their lives like she saved his with her intelligence, her responsibility, her unwavering distinction between what is right and what is wrong... and her warm, caring heart.

He missed her so much, and he knew he couldn't go on without her help. He needed her with him on his hunt for the final horcrux. There had to be a way.

Harry sat up and peered through the orange Chudley Cannons curtains into the overgrown garden. He smiled a small smile through his tears as he pictured himself and three redheads de-gnoming that very bush under his window.

* * *

"Now in Vienna, there's ten pretty women

There's a shoulder where Death comes to cry

There's a lobby with nine hundred windows

There's a tree where the doves go to die

There's a piece that was torn from the morning

And it hangs in the Gallery of Frost..."

Footsteps.

"Such a sweet, _innocent_ little voice."

Hermione stopped singing at once, blushing slightly from where she sat against the wall. It was unfair, really, that he could sound so cruel and yet so _pleasant_ at the same time.

_Don't let him get to you._

"Haven't seen you in a while," she said simply. It's true. It's always Rabastan these days.

"_Missed _me, have you?"

He smiled patronisingly as she snorted and shook her head.

"Now now, there's no reason to be rude."

She didn't want him to be there. She was feeling so much better after her bath. What did he want from her? She decided to ignore him, and stared at her toes. They were black from the cold.

"I'm waiting for you to answer me, Mudblood, and I assure you my patience is thinning."

She stared at him in disbelief. His beautiful face had an ugly twist in it.

_He's angry at me. Why is he angry?_

_I don't care. I'm angry too._

"No, _Lucius._ I did not _miss_ you!" she hissed, and got up to look him in the eye. "Why would I want to spend my last living hours in the company of a monster? It seems blood purity is no substitute for common sense."

She was breathing heavily, and felt fear knot somewhere in her intestine as a cruel smile formed on his lips.

_Oh shit! He wanted this! He wanted an excuse..._

And sure enough, Hermione was forced to the floor as she felt acid trickling through her spinal cord, and the nerves are burning away, and the pain is spreading to all her senses, her blood burning, searing every limb...

"Ah, my dear mudblood."

He paced slowly in front of her as she trembled at his feet. His voice seemed far away as she tried to control her breathing.

'_My' dear mudblood?_

She didn't like the undertones of possessiveness in his voice. It scared her more than the pain did.

"I have instructed you clearly not to stand without permission, and yet you defy me, even attempt to _insult _me. _Me._"

Her chin was forced upwards by an invisible hand. She didn't want to look in his eyes. They were so completely devoid of compassion. She stared at his wand instead.

"You seem to forget who has the power here."

He was looking so smug, she couldn't stand it.

"You have _all _the power, do you? Then why were you avoiding me?"

_Shut up, Hermione._

His eyes narrowed.

"Avoiding you?" He breathed a soft, incredulous laugh. "You need to ask? You say you so detest my company; it may please you to hear the feeling is entirely mutual."

He released her and paced to the front of her cell, wrapping a slender hand around a bar.

"You have no blood status, bravery, pride or beauty to speak of. The intelligence you pride yourself on barely qualifies as average. Have you ever been worth my attention, prisoner or not?"

Hermione couldn't tell if he was speaking to her or himself. Either way, the soft, hissed syllables were starting to unnerve her immensely.

"Why would I spend any more time with an ugly little mudblood than I absolutely have to? Tell me, Miss Granger, is there any reason why I would desire to be near you?"

Hermione willed the tears back down as she felt her nose sting. She had never been called _ugly_ before. Sure, she knew she wasn't as pretty as most of the other girls, but _ugly_?

She didn't want him there. She curled up in a ball and stared at the floor, breathing hard. She needed to get some of her old strength back, but in her shivering, hopeless state, it seemed impossible.

_Come on, Hermione! You're a Gryffindor! What happened to you!_

"I asked you a question."

_Lucius happened._

He was kneeling next to her.

"Look at me, Granger."

She raised her head.

_Obediently._

He was staring intently into her eyes, and seemed to concentrate immensely as he lifted his hand. Hermione tensed, ready to take the impact of the strike that was sure to come, but he merely cupped her cheek...

Neither of them breathed as he stroked away her tears with his thumb. His hand was so cold; his eyes were _so cold_. She didn't like it. She didn't understand. Where was this coming from? He was too close.

_You are too close..._

She was so hungry for some attention, she had longed for human touch...

_Not from you._

"I want you to answer me, _Hermione_."

Lucius's head snapped back and hit the wall with a crack as Hermione slapped him with all the strength she had left in her.

She kicked herself away from him as fast as she could, blood pounding in her ears. She scrambled up and looked around her frantically for a weapon, a route to escape...

_It's too late, Hermione. He's going to kill you._

Her feet fled out from under her. She plummeted to the stone face first with a resounding _smack._ A boot hit her in the side. She screamed. Over and over he kicked her until she was wheezing for breath and vomiting blood. It oozed onto the floor around her head.

Her body left a thick, red line on the floor as she was dragged towards the wall by her feet. She screamed and clung to the ground beneath her, but succeeded only in tearing two fingernails from her skin. He walked around to her head and stomped on it one, two, three times. Hermione felt one of the vertebrae in her neck give a nasty crunch.

He was breathing heavily as he leaned over her. His hands were almost gentle as he took hold of her wrists and pulled her arms above her head. A rope slithered across them.

The next thing Hermione knew she was being dragged to her feet by her arms. She opened her eyes and stared around her groggily, confused. She was in the middle of the room, Lucius standing close by with his back to her. She was hanging by her wrists from a rope that melted seamlessly into the ceiling. Her toes barely touched the ground. She was shivering.

As he turned towards her, Hermione's blurry vision registered him taking his off his black gloves. He moved to stand in front of her, flexing his fingers. There was no patronising smile on his lips this time – his eyes danced with cold, hard fury.

"You realise what you have done."

It wasn't a question.

"You have not only _touched_ me, you have insulted my _honour._" He was keeping perfectly still, hissing the words violently across the breath that separated their bodies.

Hermione choked on an ugly laugh. "Slytherins have honour, do they?"

A flash of black and his bare fist cracked her jaw. Her vision swam dusk; she was starting to feel nauseous.

"You'll be quiet if you know what's _fucking_ good for you, Mudblood."

He seemed to spit every syllable at her, yet still she couldn't understand how he could have so much anger rippling under his skin and still not raise his voice to her. What would it take to make him lose control?

_I don't want to find out.  
_

"Are you pretending that _you _know what's good for me? _You, _the man that killed my best friend, the man that tortures my kind for fun?"

Another punch in the jaw. A flash of silver, a cut... her stomach was bleeding.

_He's so fast!_

His breathing was becoming uneven – she could feel it on the back of her neck as he stood behind her. He took hold of her left shoulder and slid his spidery left hand down her arm slowly, increasing pressure as he neared her wrist. She did not want to know what was coming. She shut her eyes.

"Oh no you don't."

Her eyes were forced open by some unknown spell as his right hand, holding a small dagger, slid across her collarbone, trailing the blade along her skin.

"_Yes, _Miss Granger, whether you like it or not, for the rest of your life it will be_ I_ who decides what is good for you."

As he pressed his body to hers from behind, the blade travelled to the soft flesh of her upper arm... trailed coldly down to her wrist...

In the exact place where Lucius's dark mark is embellished on his own body, the blood on Hermione's arm started to flow –

"I"

his lips are on her neck

"am"

he carves an "L"

"your"

he carves an "M"

"god."


	7. Chapter 7: Awoken

A/N

The genre is angst/horror. I did not classify this story as such by accident. Those of you who overlooked this, kindly proceed to your nearest exit in an orderly fashion.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Awoken  
**

**

* * *

**

She was warm. Warm and comfortable.

_Heaven?_

No. Heaven was not for girls like her. Heaven was not for girls who threw their pride away when faced with the mundane experience of mortal pain.

Something off... he had never let her black out before...

_What did he do to me? _

She opened her eyes. Darkness.

_Other senses... you have four more._

One: hearing.

_Silence. No... light breathing..._

Two: smell.

_Dust. Not water and stone. I'm...I'm not in my cell._

Three: taste.

_Blood. That's standard._

Four: touch.

_Soft beneath me... soft above me...slippery..._

_Silk?_

_No...no please let it not be silk... please..._

She stretched a flat palm. It went on all around her. She was definitely in his bed.

_No, no it could be any bed... perhaps they gave me a room..._

_With silk sheets? Really, Hermione?_

She hated being so helpless. She couldn't _stand_ having to wait for Rabastan, a _death eater, _to come to her _rescue_ every time. She wanted to jump up and blast them all away with wandless magic, but the strength of her mind and her thirst for revenge was equal to the weakness of her body.

She tried to shuffle her body to the right, trying to the find the edge of the mattress so she could get up, but the second she moved every muscle burned hundreds of degrees. She cried out.

"If I were not awake, that little display of weakness would have given away your entire escape."

A light stung her eyes. His disdainful voice was distorted – one of her ears was not working properly. He was standing over her, immaculately dressed as ever, except for a tinge of red on the ends of his hair.

Blood.

_My filthy blood._

She tried to look at him, but the simple movement of swaying her eyes upward made the bile rise in her throat. She kept her eyes shut as she felt the sheet being removed from her body. She was in nothing but panties.

"You are quite fortunate, Miss Granger. I brought you back from the brink of death last night."

Her tears stung under her lids.

_You PUSHED me to the brink of death, you bastard..._

_Fuck what happened? I can't remember..._

"I forced a blood-replenishing potion down your throat just in time, though there is some _extensive_ damage to the rest of your..._meek_ body."

She cringed as he brushed his fingers over her hair and down the back of her neck. When he reached her ribs she screamed – even his feathery touched felt like a hot poker to her sensitive flesh.

"Fortunately, this is not my problem."

He hooked his fingers under her chin and turned her head upward, forcing her to look at his face. He was wearing a polite little smile.

"Have a good day then, _my_ little prisoner."

He turned on his heel and left, leaving her to puzzle at his words and why he emphasised as he did. She tried furiously to suppress any memories of the night before that rushed at her. She didn't want to know, she wasn't ready. In the physical state she was in she needed every ounce of will power she had to keep herself alive. Any attack on her defences and she might just... let go.

There was not much else she could do but wait. What for she didn't know, but she had an idea what might happen next. Sure enough, a furious Rabastan entered after what couldn't have been more an hour.

He slammed the door, threw his coat on the ground and stomped over to the bed, his eyes raking madly over her body.

"That mother_fucker"_ he said softly, as he took in the blood caked around her torn ear, her blackened, bloody face, the tiny bits of bone poking from the purple and crimson mess that was once her ribs, the cuts and scrapes along the rest of her, and the sensitive exposed flesh where her fingernails used to be.

She flinched as he took his wand from his pocket.

"I will not hurt you."

Hermione had never in her life imagined that those five words could ever carry so much weight. To be suddenly released from fear, even if just for a few minutes, after weeks of flinching at every word and movement, was invaluable. It was too much for her. She heaved a sob and covered her face. She didn't want him to look at her until she regained control.

He didn't mock her for her weakness. He didn't say anything. He didn't pat her hair or offer her any kind of comforting touch. His presence alone, however, was enough reassurance, as he treated the wounds on her back while she composed herself.

He healed her ear, which made a hollow pop as it repaired itself. He completely reconstructed half her ribcage before repairing her punctured lung. After this he turned his attention to the cuts and bruises.

By the time he reached her lower back she was quite calm. The rhythmic routine was soothing. He would put a finger on each side of a cut, wave over it with his wand, and then run his thumb over the healed skin to feel if it made a scar. Then he would rub some odourless, sticky ointment on her bruises, which healed them instantly.

She was starting to relax a little as her pain eased. Her mind was starting to function properly again, and one by one the disturbing thoughts tunnelled their way to the top. One particularly painful idea would not let her be.

_Get on with it. You have no one else to ask._

"Rabastan... I mean, Mr Lestrange_..."_

_Snivelling fucking suck-up, aren't I?_

"I said I'm not going to hurt you. Drop it, it's annoying."

_Well that's another bit of self-respect down the drain. I'm practically a Slytherin._

"Rabastan, do you know if I'm still a... if he, you know..."

She blushed as she felt his hands cease their movement on her calf.

"You don't know?" there was a definite hardness in his voice now.

"Well, no, I fainted, see..."

"Do you... do you want me to take a look?"

Hermione yanked her legs up to her chest, causing her hips to cramp up.

"No!" she squealed. After all she'd been put through, she was still unable to even _talk_ about sex or anything related, let alone give anyone a free show.

_Well, you are already practically naked..._

_But this is a little different._

"Alright, calm down. Believe me, it's not something I _pine_ for, darling."

Hermione frowned at his smirk and muttered insults under her breath. He rolled his eyes as helped her to sit upright.

"Is there another way I could know?" she asked softly, wanting to get this topic out of the way as soon as possible.

"Well, it's quite simple - do you _feel_ any different?"

Hermione considered this. "No, not really, but that's not a very thorough test, is it?"

She jumped with shock as his face split in laughter. Apparently he was also more relaxed now her wounds were treated. It wasn't a warm laugh, but it was definitely not ugly either. She had never even seen him smile before. It was a nice change to say the least.

"Believe me, If Lucius Malfoy fucked you, you would know about it. You would _know about it_ for a good day or two I'd say."

Hermione pulled a disgusted face and tried her best not to think about what he might mean by this. Rabastan took her hand in his to heal the skin where her fingernails ripped out. This caring touch meant more to her than he knew – if it weren't for him, Hermione would probably associate all human touch with fear and agony for the rest of her life.

"What... what _did_ happen last night?" he asked as he sat down next to her.

She couldn't quite place his tone. He wouldn't look her in the eye either. His hands were fluttering gently over her face as he healed the bruises there.

"I'm... I'm not entirely sure. It's just your run-of-the-mill prisoner torture, I suppose."

Rabastan shook his head.

"You might be surprised to hear this, Miss Granger, but we don't torture prisoners without cause. If we need information, co-operation or obedience, then we'll certainly use _creative_ ways to persuade our captives... but for sport? No. There are more important things that we do with our time."

Hermione grew cold.

_What?_

He didn't have to do this to her. He didn't _have _to...

"In fact," Rabastan continued, "I have three captives of my own and I have not paid them any attention in months. The house elves serve them bread and water and that is the end of it. Lucius has twelve prisoners at the moment, I believe... but you are the only one he visits without any explicit reason to do so, and you are the only one I have been ordered to _look after._"

_Then why? Why does he come to me? Why won't he leave me in peace?_

"Why...?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." His face was grim. She could tell he was worried.

Hermione started to shiver. It seems she had a whole new reason to fear Lucius, but what could it be?

_There is nothing as terrifying as the unknown._

Rabastan finished mending her face and neck and leaned over her, putting an arm under her back and another under her knees.

"Put your arm around my shoulder, you shouldn't walk yet."

Hermione obeyed him without a word. This was _much_ better than being slung over someone's shoulder.

She leant her head against his chest as he carried her through the elaborately decorated room to an equally exquisite bathroom. Hermione hadn't cared much for her surroundings before, but now she was feeling better she started to look for clues as to where they were situated.

There was a lot of green and silver, obviously. This did not surprise her; all it told her was that she was in the home of a wealthy Slytherin.

Rabastan sat down on the closed toilet seat with her in his lap while he ran her bath. It was just as well, she wouldn't have been able to keep herself upright independently. She glanced at herself in the mirror.

Pre-capture Hermione would not touch this tramp with a bargepole. Her hair was straggled in large knots down her back, her face was sunken and sallow, as if there was too much of the waxy white skin clinging to her face. In addition to this, both her arms were completely covered in blood, as well as most of her back, sides and legs.

Rabastan lifted her again and lowered her gingerly into the bath.

_Looks like he's not such a monster as he pretends to be. He's got some empathy in there somewhere._

"Take off those panties, they're filthy."

Hermione did not protest. They were, indeed, covered in all sorts of unmentionables. She tugged them off under the water and threw them on the floor, where Rabastan immediately set fire to the sodden mess.

_He likes that trick. Setting fire to things._

The water around her was tinged a deep pink. She scrubbed herself slowly as Rabastan kept watch, in order to "keep you from drowning yourself". She was weak from blood loss, so it took some time.

When she finally scrubbed the last of the sticky mess from her left arm, she uncovered what she had forgotten. Flashes of blood-stained memories rushed at her, accompanied by his cold, dangerous voice -

_MY little prisoner..._

Where he had cut her, there were now red lines, as if tattooed in blood. She gasped at the elaborate initials carved into her skin.

She turned to Rabastan, to see him already staring, wide-eyed, at her wrist.

His face had gone white.

* * *

**more reviews = write faster**


	8. Chapter 8: Explanation

**A/N: Yes. I know. You want to hang me. Don't care really. I am far from abandoning this story, so just grant me some patience.**

**Thank you so much for the reviews and continuing support.  
**

* * *

Chapter 8: Explanation

* * *

She was being pulled through yet another impossibly long hallway, stumbling over what she assumed was loose carpets and corners of statues and end tables.

Obviously he couldn't let her see the place where she was being hidden in its entirety.

"Rabastan, please, where are you taking me?" she struggled to push the words out through her gasping breath. She was not strong enough for this.

"Quiet!"

He was nervous – completely on edge. His grip on her wrist – her left wrist – was so tight that she couldn't tell whether or not she had any fingers.

She heard a click and banged her shoulder against the doorway as Rabastan pulled her into a room. The pain didn't register. Few things did these days. He had told her just that morning – she had been in captivity for more than three months now.

"Oooh! Breakfast in bed, Rabastan? How_ thoughtful_!"

Hermione froze and everything seemed to slow down, her heart thundering steadily in her ears. The hair on the back of her neck prickled as her right hand twitched, as if it had just held a wand the previous day. Every sense she had seemed amplified impossibly as her body automatically entered survival mode.

Even as the blinding spell slid off her eyes, she kept them shut. She had no desire to look at that haunted face, those insane eyes. She knew exactly who was in front of her.

"This is not the time, we have a problem."

Rabastan was speaking from somewhere nearby, but she paid no attention to his voice. She was completely focused on her enemy, listening for the rustle of robe on carpet that would betray her advance.

"A problem? Well I'm sure I can help!"

A nauseating tinkle of mad laughter.

"After all, I am quite a powerful witch, there is nothing I won't face! Wouldn't you agree, Mudblood?"

Hermione opened her eyes and looked directly into Bellatrix's face.

"I don't mistake lunacy for bravery."

She almost flinched, expecting Bellatrix to react like Lucius does – immediately and with abandon, but the older witch merely smiled at her, an evil glint in her eyes.

She slid off her bed and walked slowly towards Hermione, her head cocked to one side, as if she were curious.

"That's two violations in under a minute – she didn't kneel in the presence of a pureblood, and she insulted a high-ranking Death Eater."

Her voice was quivering dramatically, making Hermione's wand hand twitch again. It was as if a stream of prickling electricity was flowing from the knot in her stomach to her extremities. Bellatrix was much easier to handle when she was screaming and cursing recklessly – Bellatrix premeditating, now _that _was something to be afraid of.

"She also attacked me in the battle at Hogwarts. Surely by now the Dark Lord would grant me a..._session_?"

With each step Bellatrix took, Hermione's intestines twisted into an even tighter knot, but she held her ground. Her heart was beating so fiercely in her ears she was starting to feel light-headed.

Suddenly she was no longer glaring at Bellatrix's mad eyes, but the back of Rabastan's robes.

"Bella, I need to see my brother. Where is he?"

Bellatrix was visibly displeased at the lack of attention.

"You're no fun today," she pouted, and walked past Hermione to the door. "He's in the shower. Until we meet again, Mudblood."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as Bellatrix closed the door behind her and felt the adrenaline subside. With her adversary no longer present to warrant all her attention, Hermione was able to take in her new surroundings. This bedroom was simple: it held only a bed, two end tables and an old fashioned closet. It was all rather blurry too.

"Sit down," Rabastan muttered as he saw her sway. Hermione obliged and perched herself on the end of the bed. She was burning with anxiety and curiosity, but didn't want risk agitating Rabastan; he seemed to be on the verge of combustion.

After what felt like an eternity, Rodolphus emerged from the bathroom clothed in a black robe. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed Hermione on his bed.

"What is this, Rabastan? Did you move her without permission?" A deep frown was creasing his brow, his eyes urgent.

"Brother, I need your advice. This prisoner –"

"_Lucius's _prisoner," Rodolphus cut him off sternly. "She is none of your concern. We dare not interfere, you know the kind of power he has."

Rabastan shook his head. "You need to listen to me. This goes beyond the rules of rank and regulations."

He motioned to Hermione and she approached them cautiously. She didn't know what to expect from Rodolphus, he seemed as emotionally volatile as his brother. At least with Lucius there was a routine: humiliation, violence, humiliation, violence. Even though she couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling, the predictability of his reactions made him less imposing in a way.

She put her wrist in Rabastan's expecting hand, exposing the marked skin to Rodolphus. The older Death Eater was regarding the initials from a distance with an expression of nausea, prompting Rabastan to squeeze Hermione's wrist even tighter.

"Is it..."

Rabastan was struggling.

"Yes," Rodolphus anwered, turning away and walking to the window. "Do we tell the Dark Lord?"

"He'll kill her."

Rodolphus' face shot up as he regarded his brother pensively, searching his expression. Hermione was holding her breath, looking from one to the other.

"You...care for her?"

Rabastan seemed to compose himself very carefully before he finally answered.

"It is not uncommon for a captor to develop a ... a feeling of _protectiveness_ towards their captives."

"_Protectiveness?_ " Rodolphus' eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

"Yes," Rabastan answered evenly.

Rodolphus moved closer and started to pace around Hermione in slow circles, taking in her form. It made her skin crawl.

"But you forget, brother. She is not your captive, and you are not her captor. Clearly, her _rightful _owner shares your..._feeling._"

Rabastan scoffed and grabbed Hermione, pulling her robe up over her head. She squealed and struggled as her skin was exposed, but he was far too strong.

"Does this look like he _cares _about her, Rodolphus? Look at the state of her body! Does it look to you like he has _any _desire to shield her from harm?"

"And why should he? _She's a mudblood!_"

Silence hung in the air as the two brothers stared at each other, breathing heavily in their anger. The spell was only broken when Hermione freed herself from Rabastan's grip and pulled her clothes back down, taking a step backward for good measure.

Rodolphus walked over to his bed and sat down, pressing fingers onto his eyes. When he next spoke he didn't look at Rabastan, but inspected the carpet in stead.

"You're being very foolish about this, brother. You are a _Death Eater._ The Dark Lord will kill you if he catches wind of your unwarranted compassion. You must remember your duty."

"And what about Lucius Malfoy's duty?"

Rabastan's eyes were blazing. He was not backing down, and Rodolphus was starting to realise that. Rodolphus shook his head and held his hands up in defeat.

As frightened and tentative as she was, Hermione could not stand it any longer.

"Rabastan, please... what is this? What's going on?" she asked in the most intellectual, emotion-free voice she could muster.

Rodolphus visibly cringed as she used his brother's given name. This gesture did not go unnoticed by Rabastan, who seemed to choose to ignore it for the time being.

"Perhaps you should sit down."

Hermione briskly marched to the bed and plopped herself down, eager to come to terms with her problem so she could deal with it logically.

Rodolphus began.

"That mark on your arm is no ordinary spell, as you may have deduced."

"It's a binding spell," Hermione interjected.

Rabastan gave her a small smile, his eyes twinkling.

"Right," Rodolphus continued, his voice betraying his surprise at her intellect.

"It is a binding spell, but a particularly nasty one, characterised by the red initials. There are several side effects and risks – this is the first time I have come across someone actually using it. It's of the oldest dark magic, I only know of it because of my heritage."

Hermione nodded her understanding.

"So what does it do? On what level are we... connected?"

The last word made the bile rise in her throat. As much as she was trying to ignore the horrifying notion of a connection to Lucius Malfoy, it was clawing viciously at her thoughts. She tried to keep her mind calm and logical; focused only on the intellectual aspects of this conversation from hell.

"It's purely physical."

_Good. No murderous, perverted thoughts in my head, then. Small victories, Hermione._

Rabastan was livid.

"Physical? He bound himself sexually to a _girl?_"

Hermione shivered and felt all the blood drain from her face.

"No," Rodolphus was looking just as disturbed. "It's not a sexual bond. It can be used to that purpose, of course, but it's not the spell's primary function."

_CAN be used for it but it's NOT the primary function. Glass half full, keep it together._

"Then...?" she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Rodolphus was looking only at his brother when he next spoke, searching his face for a reaction. Rabastan was returning the look with equal intensity.

"If he so chooses, he can hurt you merely by touching you. When he feels strong emotion and your skin touches his, it will also translate into pain on your part, even if he does it unknowingly. Your body is a slave to his."

Hermione let her head drop into her hands and examined the scars on her knees. She was doing everything she could to keep the tears in.

"He just wants more and more power over me. Why does he go through so much effort to control every aspect of who I am?"

She wasn't even aware of the fact that she was voicing her concerns out loud.

"Hermione," she felt the bed depress next to her and flinched as a familiar hand touched lightly on her shoulder. She looked up to see Rabastan's agitated but concerned face.

"This is going to make things a lot worse, but you need to know that, because your body now belongs to Lucius, if any other person touches your skin without his permission, it will be extremely painful for you."

She was choking on her own breath as she felt her heart plummet. Disobedient tears trailed down her cheeks as she looked pleadingly into Rabastan's eyes. As much as she despised him and everything he stood for, he was the only one that could help her through this.

_My saviour the Death Eater._


	9. Chapter 9: Trouble

**A/N: So, yes, I am despicable for not updating. Oh dear. I'm glad you'll never know where I live.**

**This chapter is short. But I want it this way.**

* * *

Chapter 9: Trouble

* * *

"I heard a rumour, Lucius."

Lucius Malfoy was standing with his back to his friend, keeping his gaze firmly on the fire, swirling the ice in his Firewhiskey in lazy circles. The only sounds in the room were the clinks of his ice hitting his glass, the slightly spitting fire and his own painfully controlled breathing.

"Severus. How kind of you to grace me with your presence. It's been what, three months?"

He took a sip of his drink. The liquor did nothing to dismantle the painful knot he felt in his throat. Every second he became more anxious. Lucius Malfoy did not appreciate anxiety.

"Four, actually."

Lucius heard the other man sit down and decided to do the same. When he finally looked his comrade in the eyes, he saw nothing but anger in the blackness.

"Are you going to explain to me at what point in this journey you were deprived of all your mental faculties?" Severus asked lightly.

Lucius could only shake his head and drink more.

"I have taken the liberty to ensure that this information remains contained; you and I are the only ones that know besides the Lestrange brothers."

The blonde man looked up sharply at this.

"They both know?"

Severus nodded.

"Rabastan is developing an insubordinate streak. He had no right to involve anyone else in this."

Someone besides Lucius needed to take some blame; he couldn't be the only one that was becoming unbalanced because of the mudblood's presence.

"He was right to question you, Lucius. One might even see it as his duty."

Lucius snorted.

"His duty? To who? The Dark Lord, or his mudblood?"

He didn't mean to sound so bitter, or even jealous. He cursed himself inwardly for being so careless in front of the one man that could see through any façade.

That man was indeed regarding him with a pensive expression. His black eyes were crawling all over Lucius, who immediately raised his mental barriers.

This did not escape Severus' notice.

"My friend, what are you trying to hide from me? Why is this girl making you so irrational? Since when did you have time to waste on _torture_? We need to have this taken care of before it gets out of hand."

"It's far beyond 'out of hand.'"

"So they were telling the truth."

"Who?"

"The Lestranges."

Lucius looked down again as he felt his composure start to crumble.

"She makes me _feel_, Severus."

His friend sighed slowly and sat back in his chair.

He nodded knowingly.

* * *

Rabastan closed the door behind them and turned to face Hermione. She was sitting on the bed she first woke up in; dressed in the shapeless black robe Rabastan had given her after her bath. The sheets on the bed were still stained with her blood.

She looked at him with a simple, resigned sadness.

"Any more pain?"

She shook her head. Her body was fine. Her mental state was a different story.

He took a few steps closer and motioned for her to move up. She scooted to the other side of the bed as he sat down next to her. He pointed his wand at the sheets in front of them and conjured up a plate full of sandwiches.

Hermione smiled. Never had any food looked that tasty to her; this was exactly what she needed now.

"Thank you," she beamed, and immediately started devouring one with chicken on it.

He smiled back and took one for himself.

Hermione was quite surprised as this, and turned to him with a look of bewilderment.

"Aren't you going to have lunch with the other Death Eaters?" she asked quietly.

He shrugged and finished chewing.

"They're not as much fun as they look."

His face split in a radiant smile as she laughed with him. She noticed the creases that formed next to his dark eyes and felt a small flutter in her chest.

As his smile faded, he cupped her face with his one hand and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. He noticed her stiffen slightly, but there was no fear in her eyes. This puzzled him.

"You…you're not afraid of me anymore?"

She looked down at her twiddling thumbs.

"I am. But this level of fear doesn't mean to me what it used to. It's normality now."

As he nodded, she saw that he knew what she meant. Working for Voldemort couldn't be that different from being his prisoner.

Hermione's heart was beating erratically. His hand on her face burned her skin and seared her chest; a caring touch was unbelievably exhilarating to her. Her head was swimming with thoughts of joy at the emotion and guilt that it was caused by a Death Eater.

Rabastan leaned closer to her, his face a breath from hers. She closed her eyes for what felt like an eternity as she heard her heartbeat in her ears. She waited passively, completely refusing to think and make a decision about this.

Finally, she felt his lips meet her brow in an incredibly tender, slow gesture.

When she opened her eyes he was gone.


	10. Chapter 10: His Mistake

Chapter 10: His Mistake

* * *

"You're being reassigned."

Lucius was disgusted with the look on the younger wizard's face. It was the cocky irresponsiveness and ironic eyes that belonged only on a teenager. Juxtaposed against Lucius's own pounding heart and burning veins, it was absolutely infuriating.

Rabastan was sitting on the floor in the hallway outside Hermione's room. He had landed there after flying against the wall when Lucius cursed him. Instead of bothering to get up, he just stayed put with his head resting placidly against the high skirting.

"Did you hear me?"

Rabastan kept staring at his superior mutely, but nodded. Once.

"Get out of my sight."

He got up slowly, stretching as he got upright. Lucius stood perfectly still, watching the man walk away only with his eyes. Halfway down the hallway, Rabastan paused to pose a question over his shoulder.

"How did you know?"

Lucius snorted deftly.

"It's my house. These doors are not doors to me."

Rabastan nodded at the floor and stalked off.

Lucius stood quietly for a moment while he regained control of his slightly quickened breathing. It was the only external sign of his anger, but it was still far too much. If the Dark Lord chose to invade his mind at this point, he would have no defence. His master would see exactly what he saw on the bed, would see Rabastan kissing the girl on the head.

The Dark Lord would also see exactly how it made Lucius feel to witness that.

Rabastan, himself and the girl would all be dead by morning.

Hermione strained to hear beyond her door with her ear against the wood. Not a minute ago, Rabastan's lips were on her brow, and she was elated through all the confusion and surprise. Now cold fear gripped her heart as she tried to listen if it was his muffled scream she heard, his body thumping against her wall in the hallway.

The sandwiches she had eaten were stuck in her throat now, threatening to choke her.

After about five minutes of listening, she turned to walk to her bed. She hadn't taken two steps toward it when an arm snaked around her waist.

She didn't scream, kick or bite. Like a dog of Pavlov's, she had been trained in this place to know that such instincts only led to worse odds. Hermione hated herself as she stood still and held her breath.

"I didn't hear the door open," she whispered.

"I don't need to open them," he whispered back. His breath shifted the fine hairs next to her left ear. As he spoke, his right arm tightened across her abdomen to press her close to his chest. His warm body behind her frightened Hermione beyond belief. She doubted Voldemort could frighten her like Lucius did.

"What are you going to do to me?"

He exhaled slowly over her shoulder. His breath created a small gap between her robe and her skin as it travelled down her chest. She was very, very dizzy.

"Why? Do you have a guilty conscience?"

She swallowed. Or tried to.

_He knows. He knows something. Would Rabastan be punished? Exiled? _

_Would they kill him?_

"No. It was all him."

_What point is there in bullshitting the Lord of the Manor?_

She heard a low, breathy chuckle behind her. She felt his breath on her neck again; the vibration of his chest.

"My, my. We are making progress. I was growing very weary of your insubordinance."

He took her wrist and raised it to eye level, slowly tracing his mark on her with a smooth thumb.

_He hasn't done a hard day's work in his life._

"It appears this little bit of magic has started to become useful."

Hermione started.

_Did I tell him about Rabastan because I wanted to? Or was I compelled by some sort of loyalty forged by magic?_

"Perhaps a small reward is in order?"

From what she had seen of his punishment she could not imagine liking his rewards all that much.

"Like what?"

In answer, he turned with her and apparated.

When they arrived a second later in a library, Hermione stepped away from him quickly. He didn't stop her, but let his hand slide along her waist as she put distance between their bodies and took a shaky breath.

Lucius turned from her and walked towards a bar. Unsure what to do, Hermione stood perfectly still and settled for only surveying the thousands of books around her with her eyes. Rows upon rows of leather-bound tomes were stacked to the roof in the elegant room. A fire crackled in a dark, ornate hearth. Hermione sighed a sigh of longing.

This elicited a chuckle from the Malfoy patriarch, who was returning from the bar with two tumblers containing firewhisky.

"Draco was right about you. You really do prefer taking books for lovers."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the snake of a man, not trusting the situation at all. She would do anything to be thrown to the floor right about now. She would prefer intense pain and a very angry Lucius taking all the frustrations of his life out on her, somehow shouting at her without ever raising his voice.

When Lucius handed her one of the glasses she started trembling in earnest. When he gestured to the chair she felt herself swaying.

A hand on her lower back steadied her and directed her toward the chair. She sat on the very edge and rested her glass on her knee, not trusting herself to not spill the contents all over the carpet. Somehow, she was convinced that this entire situation rested on the edge of a knife – at the first sign of her insulting him it would all end in bloodshed as she had never seen.

Lucius sat down smoothly in the chair next to her.

"Mudblood," he addressed her conversationally, "tonight, I would like to speak to you. I don't have a world of time, especially for your kind, but a situation has arised that I, as your captor, need to address."

Hermione did not dare to react. When he gestured to her to take a drink, she tentatively sipped the amber liquid. It tasted bitter and sour at once, and burned her throat. She pulled a face and returned the glass to her knee.

"You'd better finish that, it is very rude to turn up your nose at your host's offerings."

It took every inch of Hermione's willpower to not roll her eyes at her 'host'. Of course, the numbing fear of him helped, too.

There was a terrible silence as he simply watched her sip her drink. It seemed to go on forever, and the longer it stretched, the quicker Hermione sipped her drink, if only for having something to do with herself. In reality, the glass lasted about five minutes before it was empty, but to Hermione it felt like it should be somewhere near dawn.

When she put the empty glass down on the table next to her, she was feeling rather nauseous.

She turned back to Lucius, and he finally spoke.

"Rabastan has developed some inappropriate feelings towards you."

The nausea doubled as the whiskey moved back into Hermione's throat. She could feel her heartbeat in her eardrums.

Lucius was watching her carefully.

"He has been reassigned. It would be better for all of us if I took over your supervision personally. After all, your continued existence is quite important to our cause. You are a most valued insurance policy."

Hermione turned her attention to the carpet and frowned as she tried to work out what this implied.

_Insurance? So me being alive helps them to win. A real hero would die in this situation. Die rather than be an asset to the opposition. Should I commit suicide? But I can still try to escape! If they're keeping me as some sort of last resort option then I might have time. There must be some way…_

"Mudblood."

Hermione looked up. Her mind was starting to fog over slightly as the alcohol started to slowly take its effect on her.

"Yes?"

"I believe we can start afresh, you and I. Since this war seems to be nowhere near its close, you could still be my charge for a very long time. I don't want to spend all my time mending your wounds, and I can't afford to leave you in the hands of another imbecile. Obviously you are more cunning than I thought."

Hermione frowned. He was obviously getting the wrong impression of the extent of Rabastan's feelings. He simply felt a bit protective of a little girl, nothing more. To imply that she somehow seduced him was ridiculous. Even if she actually knew how, he was much too mature to even be interested…

…_and he's a Death Eater. Which means he's a pureblood supremacist._

"Did I say something that upset you?" He raised his eyebrow as he eyed her closely.

Hermione shook her head.

Lucius just looked at her, letting the uncomfortable silence do its job.

Her glass refilled itself on its table next to her. She saw it in the corner of her eye – neither dared to break eye contact just yet.

"You think I did something to him."

"At the very least."

"I didn't."

"A likely answer."

She took a sip of her drink.

"What could I do? I have no wand, no physical strength."

A small smirk played about his lips. There was definitely more to this conversation. But he was not about to tell her what; Hermione could see he was satisfied.

"Very well."

Her glass was empty again. She was feeling emboldened, careless even.

_If I die it's good for the cause anyway._

Would he beat her? Curse her? He just said he was going to stop all that; perhaps she should put his word to the test?

"Why do you hurt me?"

He didn't blink. He didn't even breathe, as far as she could tell. He sat perfectly still for a full ten seconds before he slowly turned to put down his drink. He then steepled his fingers and stared at the fire, not turning once to face her.

"You are a mudblood that parades your skill, your stolen magical skill, in front of me and my family. You reap centuries of our knowledge from two sickle books and then claim it to be your own."

He looked at her.

"Come here."

"What?"

She was being stupid. He was never far from rage when his voice was that soft.

"Get up and come here."

Hermione got up on unsteady legs and went to stand in front of him. He shook his head slightly as he looked at her, then got up himself. She was looking the silver snake that clasped his robes together straight in the eye. The emerald gems were inches from her own golden eyes.

He smelled like pain.

She flinched as she felt a hand under her chin, lifting her face to look up at him. He was looking down his nose at her.

"I find you so absolutely infuriating, that any suffering I cause you gives me great satisfaction."

His voice was growing quieter by the minute. He walked around her and studied her closely. Hermione felt naked as he stood behind her once more.

"Being what you are, and being who you are, you have absolutely no right - "

She could feel his lips moving against the shell of her ear. His teeth were dragging along her earlobe.

" – to be successful – "

His left hand was on her stomach.

"- to be honourable – "

His right hand closed around her throat.

"- to be loved – "

His lips moved to her neck.

" – to be whole."

Her eyes closed and her breath hitched. For painful seconds she waited as his lips hovered at the junction between her neck and her shoulder. A single tear slipped down the side of her face and landed on her collarbone, inches from Lucius's face.

He pulled back quickly, as if startled, and let go of her. He walked back to the bar to pour a slightly darker drink.

Hermione simply watched his movements dispassionately.

_I'm not wasting my tears on your folly._

_I'm not wasting my tears on your folly._

_I'm not wasting my tears on your folly._

Hermione saw herself as a little girl, teased mercilessly about her teeth, her hair, her scrawny frame. She watched in her mind's eye as that little girl took all her pain and shame and infused it into her passion for knowledge; using her misfortune as her fuel, and becoming stronger than ever.

Hermione was always a smart girl. She knew truth from lies when she saw it.

It was just not logical. She was a better witch than any of her pureblood classmates.

She knew that good people would never say these things, even behind her back.

Lucius Malfoy had the ability to kill her, yes, but his words meant no more to her than the words of her childhood bullies, even of his own son and his Slytherin friends calling her a mudblood at school. If Lucius Malfoy had hoped to break her, damage her, injure her with his words, he failed. Miserably.

It was there, standing in the Death Eater's library, that Hermione started to hatch her plan for escape.

For revenge.


End file.
